


some songs are always the same (but never like you first heard it)

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fem!Akira, Genderswap, Goro likes being stepped on as it turns out, slight humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 17:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Akira sees how Goro Akechi looks at her. If this is going to be all she has of him, it's going to be on her terms.





	some songs are always the same (but never like you first heard it)

**Author's Note:**

> I was driving home one day and I thought, "what if Goro Akechi went down on fem!Akira" and this is how that turned out.

Akira has seen the way Goro Akechi looks at her. It’s not quite in the set of his shoulders, which have just the right degree of deference and a clearly practiced harmlessness; nor is it in the way that he speaks, utterly correct and overly polite. Her mother would love him, Akira thinks despairingly, and that’s nearly enough to put her off him altogether. But there’s something in his eyes, something that’s neither harmless nor polite, and the gentler he smiles the hotter it burns, especially if she catches him just out of the corner of her eye.

Akira has seen the way Goro looks at her and so has Sojiro, apparently, because Akira comes back to Leblanc one day to find a pack of condoms on her desk, along with Dr. Takemi’s number and a note that says “I’m not your parent but please don’t get pregnant on my watch.”

Akira snorts and shoves the condoms in a drawer. She doesn’t plan on fucking Goro Akechi, not really. Teasing him a little, maybe; but letting him that close sounds like one of the worst decisions she could possibly make.

Goro seems to have few after-school obligations; or else he’s blowing them all off in favor of hanging out at Leblanc’s counter. He’s spun up reason after perfectly innocuous reason when she’s asked: he favors the coffee over anywhere else in the city; it’s quiet here and he can hear himself think. Akira never asks what he’s thinking _about;_ the way his eyes linger on her as she refills his cup make it pretty clear.

Fucking him would absolutely be the _worst_ decision she could make, short of marching down to the police station and confessing everything. Also a good sight more dangerous.

Goro’s fingers brush hers as she hands back his mug, and Akira’s not nearly sentimental enough to say there’s a _spark_ between them - but the skim of leather on skin is enough to curl _something_ low in her gut nonetheless, and Goro’s eyes stay fixed on hers as he takes a sip. It’s a few steps too far from subtle but not anything she wants to call him on; not yet, anyway.

“Your move,” she says, sliding her knight over and capturing his rook. She swaps out the pieces with one hand and tosses the captured piece in the air before setting it back on the counter.

“Impressive, as always,” Goro murmurs, so politely sincere that he sounds sarcastic - although Akira can tell that he isn’t, not really; not in this, anyway, in the way he leans over his folded arm and studies the board, searching for an opening.

She hasn’t left him any. She’s four moves away from checkmate if she’s calculated this right, and she moves down the counter to clean up after a departed customer and check on Morgana. He’s sleeping away, curled up tail to nose on the farthest barstool. For all that he claims he’s not a cat he certainly _acts_ like one sometimes, stretching and yawning when she skritches his head but otherwise uninterested in the proceedings.

Four moves and an hour later, the last of the sun’s evening glow has departed and the streets are well and truly dark outside of Yongen-Jaya’s haphazard streetlights. Goro’s second cup is long-since finished and Akira doesn’t even bother to hide her grin as he tips over his king.

“We’re well matched,” he says, and she knows he means it as a compliment. “But I’ll take the next one.”

Akira snorts, already packing away the board. “You’ll try.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, and _that_ , that sounds real, not like he’s trying to flatter her ego or get under her skirt, but like he sees her as a challenge. Like he sees _her_. Although she’s not neck-deep in it like Goro is, Akira has spent a lot of time over the last year learning to control how people see her. It sends something like lightning down her spine to think that the part of her that pushes back, that doesn’t let him win - the part she’s had to carefully package during the daylight hours - is the part that Goro _likes_.

Sojiro coughs audibly from the other end of the counter, folding his newspaper. “It’s well past when I should be home,” he says as Goro jerks back, face smoothing itself out into his pleasant, neutral mask. “And you too, probably,” Sojiro adds, waving his paper at Goro.

Goro’s smile turns the faintest bit brittle. “I’m afraid there’s no one waiting for me, Sakura-san,” but to his credit he can take a hint and he straightens, sliding off the barstool.

“Oh.” Sojiro rallies. “Well - take care getting home. Weather’s supposed to turn nasty.”

“Of course, Sakura-san,” Goro says smoothly, and Akira just about rolls her eyes.

“I can close up. You get on home to Futaba if you’re kicking everyone out,” she says, shooing Sojiro out from behind the counter.

“I’m not _kicking_ \- you know what, fine. For that, you _can_ close up by yourself,” Sojiro grumps, grabbing his hat and jacket.

“Like I don’t most days already,” Akira says, but she’s smiling as Sojiro pointedly holds the door for Goro. Goro nods to her as he leaves, and again to Sakura on his way out, and while it’s a little annoying to have Sojiro acting like an overprotective chaperone Akira has to admit it’s - nice, a little bit. That someone cares.

She kicks off her shoes and turns off the lights, but she’s barely flipped the door sign from _Open_ to _Closed_ when there’s a flash in the sky and the _crack_ of thunder. The rains starts two seconds later, sheeting down and pelting the glass in the doorway. Akira shivers, turning away. Sojiro will be fine - the Sakura residence is no more than a block away - but Goro…

It’s really not her problem. She reaches for her phone anyway. Morgana uncurls himself and hops down, stretching as he blinks himself awake and Akira _knows_ he’ll think this is a bad idea so she sends the message before he can ask.

_A: Do you have an umbrella in that case of yours?_

The answer comes back almost immediately. _G: I’m afraid not._

Akira taps her fingernails against the face of her phone, then starts typing. This is stupid, so stupid - and she tells herself she’ll stop and delete it right up until she hits _Send_ :

_A: You can wait out the rain here. No place else is open this time of night._

No response.

She holds her breath a moment, then a moment longer - still no response, and you know what, that’s _fine_. The subway station isn’t close but he can drown in it for all she cares.

There’s a knock on the door behind her and Akira jumps.

“I didn’t think _Leblanc_ was open at this time of night, either,” Goro says mildly when she opens the door, and he’s not quite drowned yet but he’s getting there, hair flattening on his head and the shoulders of his jacket darkening with the rain.

“Get inside,” she says over Morgana’s grumbled “it’s _not_ ,” and steps aside.

She can feel her pulse picking up as she closes the door and sets the lock, the same way it does for a Mementos mission, for an infiltration. This is an infiltration of sorts, she supposes; although she’s not entirely sure if she’s trying to get under Goro’s skin or get him out from under hers.

She turns in time to see Goro setting his ridiculous briefcase down and Morgana’s tail disappearing upstairs. That’s fine. She knows he doesn’t quite approve of Goro but she doesn’t need Morgana’s or _anyone’s_ approval or permission to close the few steps between them and take Goro by his stupid tie and _pull_. He stumbles, clearly caught off guard, catching himself on the back of one of the high bar chairs. In the reflected glow of the streetlights his eyes are wide and darker than she knows them to be, that careful composure wiped away as she pulls his face close.

“Akira, what -” he swallows and she knows she has him, and victory is just as thrilling as it always is, curling her toes in her socks as she leans in and presses her mouth to his.

He starts but she holds him fast, and it only takes a second before he makes a faint noise into her mouth and presses back into it. She smiles against his lips as his hands close on her hips, and she’s tall enough that when he pulls her tight against him she can feel his dick twitch against her thigh.

She lifts her mouth from his. “Tell me if you want to stop,” she murmurs, and his hands tighten on her hips.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says immediately, then screws his eyes shut, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to stop,” he breathes, “but Akira, this is - this is a _terrible_ idea.”

“The worst,” she agrees, bringing her hand up to wrap around the back of his neck.

Goro’s eyes open. “Then why -”

“Just tell me if you want to stop,” she says, and kisses him again, and that must be a convincing enough argument because it only takes a moment before his lips are moving against hers again. She leans into it, into him, letting him take her weight as she drags her teeth along his lower lip.

He shudders against her, and then his hands are sliding down over her ass to the back of her thighs and he’s _lifting_ , pulling her her up and against him as he turns. She throws her arms around his shoulders for balance as he deposits her on one of the booth tables, and when he grips her thighs and pulls her flush against him, the easy display of strength lights something low in her belly. He’s stronger than he looks; but then again he’d have to be, wouldn’t he.

She rocks her hips against him, and his grip tightens on her thighs. Goro drags his lips down her jawline and she tips her head back on a gasp, arching against him as he finds a spot below her ear that makes her breath come faster in her lungs. She rocks against him again, skirt riding up so the fly of his trousers presses directly against her underwear, and the pressure makes her thighs flex around his hips. She can feel how wet she’s getting, and she thinks that she might be able to get off just like this, grinding against the growing hardness in Goro’s pants, with his hands tight on her and his breath hot in her ear.

Before she can test out that theory Goro slides one hand up into her hair, and she would object to that but his mouth is on hers again. Despite the fact that he’s holding her head still his lips are soft, almost gentle, like he thinks she’s fragile, like he thinks she might break; and she _knows_ that he knows that’s not true - not for him, not for anyone ever again - so she pulls against the hand in her hair and bites at his lip, harder than before, hard enough that he makes a desperate noise into her mouth and his hips grind into hers. He’s _definitely_ hard now, and Akira spares a thought for the condoms upstairs; but before she can do more than think it Goro pulls back and slides his hands up her thighs, pausing at the edge of her rucked up skirt.

“Here,” he says breathlessly. “Let me -” he doesn’t finish that sentence, sliding down her body until he’s on his knees in front of her. His thumbs rub over the skin of her inner thighs and she shivers despite herself. She can see his face now and she thinks she might have gotten it wrong, a moment ago; he’s looking at her not as if she’s fragile but like she’s _precious_ , like she’s something he’d taught himself not to want.

“Can I?” he says, fingertips playing with the edge of her underwear and she nods, lifting her hips as he hooks his fingers under the edge of the elastic and pulls, sliding them slowly down her legs. He braces one hand on her thigh as he pulls the glove off his other hand with his teeth, dropping it to the floor with her underwear. She lets out a breath and leans back on her hands as he spreads her legs, carefully folding her skirt up.

The first graze of his fingers against her has her thighs flexing against the unfamiliar touch, but he holds her firmly and does it again, stroking his thumb up against her with a fascinated expression. She bites her lip, hips flexing up into his hands as he carefully circles her clit, and when he looks a question at her she nods.

His breath ghosts over sensitive skin and Akira has to bite down on the noise she makes at the first careful swipe of Goro’s tongue against her. He makes a considering noise down between her legs, then does it again, tongue following the path his fingers had taken, licking over her in broad strokes before circling her clit. Her thighs flex under his hands as heat pools underneath his mouth; she feels hot and oversensitive everywhere but _especially_ where his mouth is moving with growing confidence against her. Goro shifts below her, lifting one of her legs and hooking it over his shoulder, hand sliding down her thigh to cup her ass, and at this angle his tongue moves _just_ right against her, drawing all that tension up to just below the surface, until she feels drawn tight in every muscle, hips shifting in tiny movements against his mouth.

“Goro.” His name escapes her on a breath, and he moans against her, vibrations sinking into her skin and making her gasp. He closes his lips around her clit and _sucks_ , and all at once that coiling tension _snaps,_ arching her back and tightening her leg around him, pulling him closer as every muscle goes taut. She rides out her orgasm against his mouth, and his fingers sink into the soft skin of her thighs as he holds her still, stroking her through it with his tongue.

When she feels like she can breathe again she makes an effort to uncurl her leg from his back, shifting forward to rest her hands on his shoulders. Goro leans back under her hands, blinking up at her. His lips and chin are _obscenely_ wet, and she just came but the contrast between the perfectly put together Detective Prince and _this_ version of him curls something in her chest nonetheless.

“That was -” she sounds absurdly high-pitched and breathy; Akira clears her throat and tries again. “That was - _fuck_.”

“Yes, I believe you are correct,” Goro says dryly, bringing an arm up to wipe at his chin, and Akira laughs, leaning back and bringing up one socked foot to shove him solidly in the chest. She grins, waiting for the scowl of outrage, and Goro’s chest heaves under her foot -

\- but the look on his face is _not_ outrage, not by a long shot, not by the way his eyes have gone wide, pupils blown. He swallows and brings up a hand, but not to push her away - just rests it lightly on her ankle and watches her, eyes gone dark.

“Oh, Goro,” she breathes. “You _are_ a piece of work.”

His grin this time is a lot shakier as she drags her foot down his chest, down his stomach, and she has to hold the edge of the table to maintain her balance but it’s worth it for the noise he makes when she presses the ball of her foot against the base of his dick. His mouth drops open as she presses down gently, and she grins in answer.

“Well?” She says. “You going to make me do all the work?”

Even in the dim light she can see the flush darkening his cheeks, and another time she’d like to see how far down that goes but Goro’s clearly edging past just _turned on_ into _desperate._ He licks his lips and his fingers flex around her ankle, and then his hips are hitching up and she can feel his dick clearly outlined against her foot, hard and solid and straining against the line of his pants.

“That’s it,” she says, leaning forward. “Knew you had it in you.”

He _does_ shoot her a glare for that, but the effect is ruined by the way he’s holding her foot in place, grinding against it. She wiggles her toes and he moans, bracing his free hand on the table edge, head bowing and hair falling into his eyes. His hand flexes next to hers and Akira thinks about taking it, about lacing their fingers together while he gets off - but that’s probably a step too far, isn’t it. There’s no sense in pretending this is more than it is.

Goro makes a raw, desperate noise and she looks back down at him, shoulders gone tight and muscles straining. She takes pity on him and presses down a little harder, and the noise of _relief_ he makes is enough to tighten her stomach again. She reaches out and runs a hand through his hair and he leans into it minutely, hips jerking against her foot -

\- then he sags all at once and it takes her a moment to realize he’s come in his pants, underneath her touch. His fingers drop away from her ankle and she drags her foot away, revealing a not insignificant stain against the front of his pants.

He breathes heavily, head down, still braced against the edge of the table. “This is still a terrible idea,” he says eventually, quietly.

“Is that any way to thank a girl for an orgasm,” she says, and he huffs a laugh. She swings her legs a little. “You won’t be the first bad idea I’ve had. Or the last,” she says, and that comes out a little more sharply than she strictly intended.

His shoulders go tight, and then he’s pushing himself up, settling his hands on his thighs as he gazes up at her. “You’re right, of course,” he says softly, and she wonders if it’s reading too much into things to say that there’s an edge of wistfulness there. She wonders if he even thinks he’s lying, and what about.

“The rain’s stopped,” Goro says, and now that Akira listens for it she realizes he’s right; there’s an occasional dripping from the eaves, but nothing like the downpour from before. Here and gone, all sound and fury but a passing thing.

She looks down at this boy who looks at her like he _sees_ her, like she’s precious, and wonders if that’s all that _this_ will be, in the end.

“I should get going,” Goro says, after the silence has stretched too long, and moves to stand, picking up his discarded glove from the floor. Akira lets herself down from the table and scoops up her abandoned underwear, hesitating before balling them up and stuffing them in a pocket. She’s the one who cleans the cafe floor; she’s not putting these back on until they’re washed. When she looks up Goro is brushing ineffectually at the stain on his trousers, face creased in dismay. He gives up with a sigh and turns, reaching for his briefcase.

“You’re going on the train like that?” It’s _not_ her problem. She needs to stop interjecting herself into his life.

“I don’t believe I have another choice,” he says. “I’ll carry my briefcase very strategically.”

“You’ll look like an idiot,” she points out.

“No one who matters will see,” he says, and Akira wonders what that says about her, wonders how much she _matters_ to this boy who thinks he can lie to her.

She steps forward and brushes her lips over his one last time, as gentle as she was fierce earlier. “One for the road,” she says when he looks at her questioningly, and even the dim light filtering in from the street can’t hide the crookedness in his smile.

“For the road,” he agrees, and slides a hand up her cheek. His lips are warm against the chill in the cafe air, and for just a moment, she lets herself pretend that this is all they are, a girl and a boy in a stolen moment secreted away from the world.

Goro pulls back, and the moment passes, and Akira is unprepared for how fiercely she wants it back.

Goro’s thumb brushes over her cheekbone, and then he’s turning toward the door, and there’s nothing left to do but open it for him and lock it behind him. She leans against it after he’s gone, imagining she can hear him walking away long after his footsteps have faded.

Stupid. She closes her eyes and bangs her fist against her thigh, as if the pain will interject some clarity. This was - _incredibly_ stupid. But if they’re going to go down this road, she wants a piece of him without an agenda, without motive beyond that he _wants_ it. Wants _her_. Tonight might be as close as she’s going to get.

“Is he gone?” Morgana’s voice floats down the stairs, and Akira opens her eyes to see Morgana’s yellow ones peering around the landing. “You should -”

“Get to bed. I know.” Akira swallows against the tightness in her throat. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Morgana eyes her for a moment, then turns and pads back up the stairs, but his silence feels more sympathetic than judgemental, and for that she’s grateful. She doesn’t know that she could explain this to Morgana. She can barely explain it to herself.

But crying here in the dark won’t help her; and anyway she’s had enough of that. Never again, she reminds herself. Not for anybody; not even for him.

She blinks rapidly and pushes herself off the door, heading toward the stairs. She’ll go to bed and tomorrow she’ll get up and get dressed and go to school and maybe when she comes home Goro will be waiting. Maybe they’ll play another game of chess; maybe he’ll just read while she runs the counter and thinks about the way his hands felt on her.

Or maybe he won’t be waiting in his usual chair; maybe she’ll do her homework in an empty booth and eat curry for dinner and go to bed all without seeing if this will change the way he looks at her.

Either way, she’ll find out tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr or [@36SaveFiles](https://twitter.com/36SaveFiles) on Twitter!


End file.
